


Morgensteorra and Æfensteorra

by LadyMuzzMuzz



Series: Navigating the Stars. [3]
Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Injury is not too explicit, Medium level child injury, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-08 07:34:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20831735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyMuzzMuzz/pseuds/LadyMuzzMuzz
Summary: Vergil rarely hesitates, he plans, he executes.So why does he resist on telling you who he is?  Because he's afraid you'll reject his son?Or is it because he's afraid you'll reject him?





	1. What goes up...must come down

**Author's Note:**

> While I'm not your mother, I would highly suggest you read the first two stories in the series to get a handle of this one.

Autumn leaves blew across the playground, deserted for the most part. There was a chill in the air, and after school, most children were picked up by their parents instead of loitering in the school yard. The exception were three people, Vergil, Nero, and you.

Vergil sat on a bench, notebook in hand, calculating revenue and expenses for his brother's business (Dante insisted it was a family business, but Vergil never felt like he could take credit in something his brother had worked so hard at, even if he could never financially manage it) Every few minutes he would glance up to see his son swinging on the monkey bars, then running up and down the slide, and now, swinging, with help from you. His son squealed in joy, laughing as you pushed him higher and higher.

“When you go forward, lean back and stick your feet out, when going back, pull your feet back and lean forward. If you keep doing that, you'll be able to pump yourself and you won't need any help from anyone.” You explained to his son, who furrowed his brow and concentrated really hard to do just that. After a few minutes of attempting, and some clarifications from you, he started to get the hang of it.

“Dad!” he called to Vergil, “Dad, look what I can do! All by myself!” Vergil looked up from his book and gave his son a warm smile. He wasn't like other fathers, he knew, he would never cheer from the stands, he could never bring himself to be so outwardly vocal with his praise (heaven forbid his son joined any of the local sports teams, he'd be far too uncomfortable). To make it up to him, he would give positive words of encouragement in private, and smiles in public. He may not win 'Father of the Year' awards, but he was trying his best.

In contrast, you were far less reserved in your public praise of him “You're doing great, Nero!” you cheered him on, “Now keep doing that, and you can go even higher!” Nero sucked up the compliments you gave him like a dry sponge.

Training lesson complete, you walked back to the bench and sat down beside Vergil. Unwillingly, he tensed up, hoping that you wouldn't notice. Ever since that conversation with his brother a week or so ago, he'd tried to find ways of telling you who he and his family were, but... there was always that niggling insecurity, that _what if she... _

If you could sense his nervousness, you gave no indication, as you sat a respectful distance away. He wanted nothing but for you to sit with him <strike>to caress your cheek</strike> but aside from a few chaste kisses, he'd not worked up the courage. It was insulting for him to feel this way, to be so timid, especially around someone as non-threatening as you.

“So,” you said, apparently oblivious to his inner turmoil, “Nero has asked me to help him with his Halloween costume.” You cocked your head. “I'm not too familiar with the holiday, we didn't celebrate such things in Fortuna.”

“Ah,” he replied, relieved to have something to direct his mind with, “It's a holiday, with pagan origins, that the Christian Church co-opted when converting people. Nowadays it mostly an event where children dress up in costume, and go door to door asking for candy.” Vergil carefully closed the notebook, satisfied that enough income was coming in to the business (although he did have to have a talk with his brother over his clothes budget, how a man who never wore a shirt spent so much on clothes was beyond him). He began to reminisce, thinking of simpler, happier times. “It was one of my brother's favourite holidays, he would spend days designing his costume. He would insist that I'd dress in a costume he'd personally 'created' and he'd drag me around, using me to collect all the candy in the neighbourhood, and then had the audacity to secretly switch all my strawberry candy with his cheap caramels.” He smiled at the memory. “Thankfully, my father had a sweet tooth for all things caramel, and would secretly trade me all of mine for chocolates. Well, until my brother found out about our little agreement, and then stole all of my caramels to trade Father for strawberry candies”

You laughed lightly at his tale, the sound causing shivers down his spine. He could sit and listen to your laugh all day.

“Haha! I imagine you weren't to pleased with that”

“No, so I decided to steal his chocolate bars, but only a few at a time, so he wouldn't notice. Of course, as luck would have it, one day he caught me. That was the most angriest I had ever seen him up to that time, and the resulting fight between us lasted over three days. Our mother had to physically restrain us from scratching the others eyes out”

“Taking care of only a few children was draining, even with all the assistants, I can't imagine how tiring it was for her to take care of two little troublemakers like you.” you chuckled.

“Well” he said, unconsciously fingering the chain on his neck, “she did help with her familiars”

“Familiars?” you asked, surprised, and he mentally kicked himself “Was she a...witch?”

Vergil decided to play it casual, after all, you'd lived in a society that hated anything remotely demonic for most of your life, it would be hard to break such a mindset. “Yes, she was not what Fortuna's Church described witches to be. No sacrificing animals or small children, no hexes, poisons or polymorphing. She was always using her gifts to help people in need, and to garden. She loved cultivating plants, roses and lilies were her favourite.”

“I...” you asked delicately, and he steeled himself for your line of questioning “I was told that a witch must make a pact with a demon to unlock their powers... I mean, that might be Church propaganda, to keep us on the straight and narrow, but”

“It's true...” Vergil confessed. He didn't want to lie to you, but the topic was painful. If you were repelled by the fact his mother was a witch, what would you say about his father? You'd given him the impression you didn't particularly care for the teachings about the Saviour, but your distaste of demons was obvious, and totally understandable. _This is it... the moment of truth._ “She did make a pact with a demon” Your eyes widened and he began to explain..  
That was when Nero interrupted, yelling “HEY DAD! WATCH THIS!” He was swinging higher than when you had left him, and at the apex of his swing, he let go, launching himself into the air. Within half a second Vergil had done the mental math to realize his son would botch the landing. He ran, in an attempt to catch his son, but he was a few precious seconds too late.

_ **CRUNCH** _

He heard, and felt the sound the bones of his son's arm cracking as he landed directly on his left side, before rolling limply to a stop. Through sheer force of will, Vergil tried his best to remain calm as his flesh and blood lay there for brief silent second, but his resolve was very close to breaking.

Then the wailing started. This was what Vergil didn't want to hear. Kneeling beside his sobbing son, he gently tried to sit him up, and Nero's cries of pain intensified. Vergil's chest hurt to hear it. But he needed to remain calm, remain the solid rock that his son needed for support.

“Nero....Nero...look at me” he held his son's uninjured shoulder, while gingerly cradling his broken arm with the other hand. The bones were clearly not where they were supposed to be, easy to tell even from a gentle grip. Vergil thanked whatever diety that was out there that the bones hadn't punctured through the skin. “Breathe....follow my breathing” He took deep breaths, pretending he wasn't screaming internally.

“D-daddy,” his boy sobbed, his eyes gushing out tears. It tore at Vergil's heart to hear him call him that. It had been years since Nero had called him that, loudly proclaiming that he was a 'big boy' and he no longer needed to call Vergil by that name. His son tried to put on a brave face, and tried to imitate his father's breathing, interrupted occasionally by sobs.

Vergil was vaguely aware of your approach, “Savior's mercy!” you cried out, falling back into your old sayings, “I'm going to call an ambulance”

“No!” Vergil barked out, a little to quickly. He knew what was about to happen, and while it would be unpleasant for both he and his son, it would happen quickly. He remembered so many years ago, while playing on the oak tree (pirates if he recalled) Vergil, in a rare moment of stupidity, had reached too far, and snapped the branch, causing him to plummet several metres down. It resulted in what was probably a broken arm and collarbone.

'Probably' because even as he screamed in agony, and his little brother climbed down the tree, panicking the whole time, he could feel his bones mending. By the time his father had picked him up to comfort him, he'd already healed, with only a tingly feeling in his fingertips as his only reminder of the ordeal. The power of Sparda's blood, he found out much later <strike>as he ran from the horde of demons that took everything away from him</strike> gave him and his brother the ability to shrug off nearly any wound. He hoped it flowed strongly enough in his son's blood as well. Nero occasionally got scrapes and cuts in the process of being a child, which healed rapidly, but it had never been tested by something like this.

And under his palm, he heard it, he felt it, and he tried to to not to flinch at it. Bones began to shift, squeak as they set back together. Vergil, who had seen the worst hell had to offer, tried his best to resist the urge to gag.

“What the...” he heard you as you knelt beside him, ostensibly to offer aid and comfort, only to see the skin on Nero's arm shift like an parasite squirmed underneath. Well, any excuse to putting off the conversation he eventually intended with you was out of the question now.

A few agonizing minutes had passed, and his son's sobs had dissipated to small hiccups.

“Better, my little star?” he asked Nero, his voice low and gentle and soothing. The boy nodded silently, tear tracks already starting to dry.

“How in the..” you sat there, wide eyed as Vergil picked up his son. Now that the initial panic had passed, Vergil knew you wanted answers. It was far too soon, if worst came to worst, he didn't want this happening in front of Nero.

“I.. I need to get Nero home... it's ..it's been a rough day.” he stammered, disgusted at his own nervousness. He carefully picked up his son, balancing him on his left hip he looked at you apologetically. “You don't mind walking home without us?”

“But dad, her and I were going to work on my costume!” his son, already recovering emotionally squawked angrily.  
“Nero....” he warned.

You, with your endless patience, intervened, “We can do that tomorrow, if your father says it's okay, alright?”

Nero smiled weakly at you as he nodded, before nestling his head on Vergil's shoulder. Vergil couldn't even make himself say goodbye to you as he barely controlled the urge to flee with his son. This situation had not been...ideal. Nero was squirming in his arms, and to his horror, he realized that the boy was waving happily goodbye to you..

_With his recently broken arm._

Oh, what thoughts you must be thinking. This was a disaster and a half. And the worst of it was, if he had merely followed his younger twin's advice, perhaps he could have cut this relationship short, and painlessly. But now, he had made the mistake of getting too invested in you, letting his son get attached to you.

As if he could sense Vergil's dour thoughts, Nero tugged at his arm, getting his attention. “Dad...” he said hesitatingly “...did I do something bad?”

His steps slowed down as he stroked his son's back. “No, my little star. You just had an accident. You need to be careful and not leap off of things that high”

“But Uncle Dante always likes to jump from the top of the stairs to the bottom over the banister...”

“Uncle Dante is a grown up, even if he doesn't act like it. He's done that so much he knows how to land” His brows furrowed, he ought to tell his brother to watch what he was doing in front of his nephew. Although, as he escorted his son home, he knew exactly what his little brother would tell him in response. Dante had been subtly (or Dante's version of subtlety) been pressuring Vergil to confess to you. He'd cleaned up the office more than usual, and yesterday, wonders of wonders, he had worn the shirt Nero had gotten him for Father's day. (Dante was a bit perplexed at why he had gotten a gift, but seeing as he was an important male relative in Nero's life, it seemed fitting to acknowledge it. Dante insisted he wasn't crying when Nero proudly gave him the clumsily wrapped package, it was because of the dust in the air)

Not wanting to have let his brother hold anything over him, Vergil realized he couldn't hold it back anymore. Tonight, after his son was tucked in, he'd slip out to your little apartment, and confess. Odds are, he would be back before midnight. How he would feel, well...that was a totally different matter.


	2. Tidal Wave

You slowly sipped your tea that evening, as you pored over the inventory sheets for the bookstore. There's been a surge of dystopian world cowboy books on the market, mostly marketed to teens after the recent success of a series, and while you couldn't say it was your preferred genre, anything to keep young people engaged in reading was encouraged. You calculated which ones and how many to purchase from the publisher, and then started checking the inventory for children's books.

Miss Patterson, the owner, had been slowly showing you the ropes as she winded down her involvement in the day to day business of the store. She was a sweet elderly lady, but she was, as she put it 'not the spring chicken she once was'. And seeing as she had no children of her own, she was in essence, handing the store over to you. You'd protested, you had only met her a few years ago, surely she knew someone else who was far more qualified for this responsibility.

“Nonsense,” she had chided you, gently, one day, as one of her cats purred contentedly in her lap “You're passionate about books as I was when I was your age, my dear, and besides, the fact you left Fortuna of your volition, instead of being cast out means you have a trailblazing character, someone I know I can trust.”

You smiled at the memory as you scanned the children's section, until you came across a new entry **'Animals of the Ice Age: An Illustrated Timeline'**

Nero would love that book, as you submitted a request for a couple of copies.

_Nero..._

Unwillingly, your mind had gone back to the event that afternoon. The sickening sound of bones snapping, poor Nero's screams of pain, and your own panic bubbling up your throat. Even Vergil, ever the stoic and calm man, had barely concealed his terror. But then... within five gutwrenching minutes, everything had gone back to normal, as if the incident hadn't even happened. Nero had waved happily with what had been his clearly broken arm, and had even begged his father to work on that sabretooth tiger costume he and you were working on.

What had changed was Vergil. The accident had caused him to go into defensive mode, and had you not trusted in him, you would have ignored his order, and called the ambulance. Something about what had happened had made him....afraid? That seemed out of character. There were no demons, nor any other threats, just a simple accident. What could he have been afraid of? He seemed to be expecting that his son's arm would heal like that (the sound of bones realigning sounded like a full box of corn starch being squeezed, you'd never be able to get that image out of your head). Was he afraid of...you?

Preposterous, you thought, what would he have to fear from you? You wracked your brain, before suddenly realizing that his attitude had changed just before Nero had fallen, right when you were talking about his mother being a witch.

Were it not for the fact your small kitchen table was covered with the order forms, you'd slam your head down against it. Stupid stupid... How could you say something so crass and insensitive about his mother? Even if she was a stereotypical child eating, puppy kicking witch that the Church said all witches were (and you doubted it, even as a child), Vergil was not her.

He rarely ever talked about his family, aside from his son and his mysterious younger twin brother (whom you were eager to meet, despite his apparent hesitation), you knew relatively little about his early life. He had mentioned that demons had killed his mother, and implied the same of his father, but other than that and a few small fond memories, he did not say anything. It seemed too painful to talk about, if the fact that his hand would go to the amulet he wore each time the topic came up indicated anything. Right now, he was focused on raising his son, and demon hunting with his brother to support themselves, and you didn't want to pry into his life.

While you never had a mother <strike>that didn't toss you like some unwanted trash, </strike>you knew how rude it was to denigrate someone's else's. And you couldn't possibly imagine the calm, disciplined, gentlemanly, caring Vergil would have been raised by a woman who didn't instill in him those traits. So what if she was a witch? You'd met supposedly 'saintly' sisters and brothers of the Order, using their faith to trample on others. Not all people could be placed in a box labelled 'good' and 'bad'.

You looked at your cell phone, laying on the kitchen counter, and resolved to call Vergil the next day, under the guise of checking up on Nero, to apologise for your incredibly insensitive statements.

_Knock Knock Knock..._

A gentle rapping hit your apartment door, startling you from your mental plans. You paused, then looked at the clock. It was quarter after nine, who would be stopping at your door at this time of night?

_Knock Knock Knock..._

Only one person ever knocked on your door with that gentle, yet firm rhythm. _Vergil. _ You quickly picked up your phone, checking to see if you had missed a call. Nothing. Odd, Vergil and Nero had never visited you without calling first. A sliver of trepidation slithered down your spine. You quickly checked your appearance in the reflection of the toaster on the counter, then went to open the door, acting as if you just happened to hear him knocking while nonchalantly walking through your living room.

The way you tried to wrangle the security chain betrayed your true feelings. You'd never quite got the handle of the way mainlanders would lock their doors AFTER they'd entered their own homes, and without fail, you always bungled the chain. Especially if you were nervous. You opened your door, a bit too quickly, trying to act surprised.

“Vergil! What a pleasant surprise!” It was clear he wasn't buying it. Nevertheless, he played along, smiling and nodding in greeting. He was, as per usual dressed to perfection, with his blue overcoat, vest, dark blue slacks and black boots. Yamato, his sword was of course at his waist, although underneath his coat, as to not attract attention from the authorities. You'd wanted to hold it, to admire its craftsmanship, but you never got the nerve to ask Vergil, you knew it was almost as precious to him as his son.

“May I come in?” he asked, ever the gentleman. You opened the door wider in a silent affirmation, and he nodded in thanks, and then removed his boots, but not his coat. Was he not planning to stay long?

“Would you like some tea? I was just about to brew another cup for me,” you lied, already having planned to head to bed after you finished your inventory.

Vergil shook his head, before slowly sitting down on the couch, obviously tense.

“How's Nero?” you tried to defuse the tension, but that seemed to backfire on you, as his father stiffened further. He wasn't looking at you, which was making you nervous as hell.

“He's... well.” So, he wasn't here because of his son. Then why?

He took a deep calming breath, and then confessed the dreaded words “We need to talk”

You decided to get in front of it, right that very second. “I'm sorry,” you started, his head snapped up in surprise, “I should not have said anything so demeaning about your mother. It was uncalled for.” You winced, waiting for him to respond, but after a few moments of silence, you looked up, and realized he was staring at you, looking slightly dumbfounded. That was a new look for him, and if the topic wasn't so serious, you'd laugh at his expression.

“That's...that's not what I wanted to talk about, although it may make this a bit easier..” he eventually responded, brushing his hair back with his hand. You couldn't stand anymore, so you sat down next to him, but gave him enough space. You had learned that aside from his son, and (sometimes) you, he was very wary of personal contact with others.

“You asked if my mother made a pact with a demon.”

“I didn't mean to accuse her of being ...” he held up his hand to stop you.

“She made a pact with a demon, more specifically, a marriage contract, with my father.”

There were moments that you wish you could have been a fly on a wall, just to see what your face looked like. This definitely topped the list.

“Let me repeat this, just to make sure I heard it right. Your father was a demon?”  
Vergil nodded, “mind you, they had worked together for quite a while, before marrying. I believe my father put it as 'might as well keep the old witch tradition of demonic contracts alive' when he proposed to her.” he chuckled.

“So,” you started, pieces falling into place “That means you're half demon, and Nero is”

“A quarter demon” he finished your sentence. “As such, it has given myself, my brother and Nero various traits such as enhanced strength, acute senses...and” a heavy pause. “regenerative abilities”

“Ah,” you responded. Now you understood why he had treated you like a delicate piece of porcelain. He was always so gentle with you, and while you appreciated it, you wanted _more. _Vergil sat there, not quite looking at you, seemingly expecting more of a reaction out of you. You'd give him a reaction worth remembering.

Vergil, who always seemed to be two steps ahead of you when it came to action, wasn't expecting you to almost launch yourself towards him, your lips crashing into his. You felt him stiffen up for a moment, and just when you were about to pull away, his arms suddenly embraced you,as he leaned back onto the couch armrest. A few moments more, you broke away from him, but remained ensconced in his arms.

“That...” he took a breath “that was a surprise. A pleasant one, but a surprise nevertheless. I had expected you to react-”

“Vergil” you placed your index finger on his soft lips “I didn't fall in love with a demon...I fell in love with a man who is kind, intelligent, thoughtful, and loving.” you smiled at his completely stunned face. “The fact that he just happens to have a bit of demon blood in him, that's just makes him unique”  
“You do remember that I have an identical twin, correct?”

“And I recall you saying that aside from a womb and genetics you two had nothing in common.”

Vergil chuckled softly as he brought your face back to kiss you again, but more slowly, on his terms. When you pulled back you rested on his chest, hearing the steady (and yet incredibly fast) beating of his heart. Something still troubled you though, and you raised your head to look into his eyes.

“One thing I don't understand is... Why do demons deem you a threat? I mean, yes, you hunt them, but that doesn't explain why they've been hunting you since...” you didn't want to continue down that line of discussion so you switched “and why attack Nero, even though he was a baby the first time?”

Vergil's face hardened again, and you thought you had overstepped your bounds, but his thumb stroking your cheek revealed his true feelings.

“It wasn't who we are, as opposed to who our father was” you shot him a puzzled look. “Our father was ... Sparda”

The fly on the wall moment happened again. “Sparda,” you repeated, “THE Sparda? The one that legends told helped seal off demonkind from destroying humanity, or are demons not particularly creative when naming their kids?”

“The one and only” a slight smile spread on his face as he watched you trying to comprehend it.

“So wait,” you said, your turn to be stunned “Sparda, Savior of Humanity, Scourge of the Underworld, Sent by God Himself to rescue Humanity, Greatest of all Warriors, Lord of Fortuna, Beloved of the Church...liked caramels?”

“Preferably the ones wrapped in clear plastic that you could get at the bulk market, but he was also partial to Werther's candies.”

“If I didn't know you better, Vergil, I'd say you were fibbing.” you giggled. To think, the Savior himself....the Church would have a conniption fit.

Vergil's voice dropped an octave as he guided your face back to him, “Would you...like to know more about me, my Evening Star?”

That was the moment the blue touch paper was lit.  


Slowly, gently you kissed him, setting the rhythm as you pushed your tongue into his mouth. He tasted of wintergreen mint and dark chocolate. After a few moments, he did the same to you, and you smiled inwardly at lustful groan he made. His hands slowly explored your face, starting with your ears, then slowly down your jawline. You shuddered as his hands grazed ever so gently down your neck until he reached your collarbones. Your hands echoed the movements, feeling the softness of skin of his neck before grumbling as you hit his overcoat.

Chuckling, he removed his hands to adjust his shoulders and his overcoat fell off, crumpling into a disorganized pile under him. Excitedly, you continued dancing your fingertips down his arms, marvelling at how the muscles twitched at your slightest touch.

Something else of his was twitching beneath you and out of instinct, you ground your hips against it, enjoying the sound he made as you did so.

“While this is enjoyable,” he said after breaking away from your lips, “I'm certain there's somewhere a bit more comfortable for us”

Oh ho ho...this was really happening. You were going to make love to the Son of Sparda.

_No._

You were going to make love to Vergil.

Trying to not act too eager (and failing miserably), you got off the couch, Vergil following you. You couldn't resist, and continued to kiss him, and Vergil, always a man who valued control over himself, trusted you to guide as you had him walk backwards towards your (admittedly small but cozy) bedroom, kissing him the entire way.

As you passed the Rubicon that was the doorway, you mentally steeled yourself. You'd never done this before, never been with anyone ever. Back in Fortuna, your status hadn't attracted any suitors, and even on the Mainland, you'd never felt confident enough to explore with anyone. Of course, working at a bookstore had allowed you to peruse the romance section, but you were smart enough to know that they were too PG to explain anything, and often unrealistic.

Vergil sensed your trepidation, and paused. “What troubles you?”

You felt the blood rush to your cheeks, as you tried to verbalize your thoughts. Vergil wouldn't possibly judge for this, you were certain, but it still felt awkward “I...I..haven't...”

“Shhh...” he placed a lingering kiss on your forehead. “I'll be gentle. Tonight is for you.” How you adored this man!

Separating from him, even for a few moments for him to unbutton his vest and remove Yamato, made you feel cold and empty. To distract yourself, you focused removing first, your turtleneck, then your bra, (you wished you had a better one on for this occasion, but truly it didn't matter, it was coming off anyways) removing each clasp, one at a time. As the bra came off and tumbled to the floor, you heard a sharp intake of breath. “Magnificent...” his voice barely above a whisper. His kisses trailed down your neck, your shoulder, your collarbone. You couldn't handle it, and you pulled him on top of you as you crashed into the bed. His kisses went lower, and now his mouth found your left breast, tongue circling the pebbly ring around it.

“V-v-vergil” you stammered. A dangerous smirk flashed on his face. This man was going to devour you, and you were looking very, very forward to it.

“You enjoy this? Well, it would be a shame to neglect one in favour of the other”, and his mouth switched to the right one, while his hand slowly massaged the left one, with just hit of a pinch. Your hands fluttered all over his chest, dancing over the smooth skin (in your fantasies you had pictured a handsome lattice of scars from his demon hunting, but now you appreciated his healing abilities), feeling the firm muscles that gave him his physical prowess.

Lower he went, kisses peppered your torso, your shuddering increasing the lower he went, until you were practically shaking as he reached your hip bones. Your hands were now carding his white hair, surprisingly soft and silky. You moaned, you were slowly losing the ability to form coherent sentences, hell, you were losing the ability to form coherent thoughts. All you wanted was the pleasure that Vergil gave you in abundance. Your hips ground against his lip with each caress, each kiss.

He paused, causing you to moan in frustration. You looked down at him, his gaze piercing you, with his signature small smile. “You desire more?”

“V-vergil”

“I need to hear it from your lips” Damnable man.

You forced yourself to take a breath, to concentrate on forming a single sentence. “Vergil, I-I-want you”

“As you wish” and he got up off the bed. You panicked for a moment, your lust-fevered mind trying to figure out what was going on. And then he returned, fully nude, save for the amulet that sat around his neck (which honestly, made him look even more delectable)

_Magnificent._

You reached out to touch him, but he calmly pushed you hands back, “Remember what I said, my Evening Star? Tonight is for you.”

He lifted your ass, and removed both your pants and underwear, leaving you just as bare as he was. His ministrations continued, and ever so gently, he stroked your slit.

“So wet...” he murmured and then you felt him insert one of his fingers. He paused as you loudly groaned at the sensation, before he realized it was a groan of pleasure and not pain. He began to thrust, slowly, almost agonizingly slow, and you closed your eyes, nearly delirious with the sensation. But it wasn't quite enough.

“M-m-more, Vergil, please” his response was a soft chuckle, and you felt another finger in you, stretching you, filling you. He sped up, ever so slightly, and your left hand clenched in the sheets, while your right hand stroked the shell of his ear, causing him to hum in pleasure. His fingertips curled slightly, causing a sensation you did not expect. Your back arched in reflex, and you bit your lip to keep you from releasing an extremely load moan (the walls of the apartment weren't thin, but one could never be too careful). Your hips, acting on ancient animal instincts began to buck up against him, just to get a bit more, and were rewarded with his thumb gently stroking you clit.

You were so, so, close... you could feel the pressure building up inside of you, but one thing was missing. Vergil had told you this night was for you....

_But you wanted him._

Mustering up the last reserves of self-control you had, you gasped “Vergil...I ..I n-need you. Please”

His brows furrowed, he asked. “Are you certain?”

A small whimper escaped your throat, followed by a silent, pleading nod. With a small groan (how he was keeping his control, you would never know how), he moved back up to give you one more passionate kiss, before sitting up, ready to align. His grey eyes, even in the twilight of your bedroom, seemed to glow, as he made eye contact with you, pausing for a moment, as you realized he was attempting one last request of permission. Even in the throes of passion, he was ever the gentleman.  
“Vergil...” you groaned in frustration, trying to move, but he kept you pinned. His reticence wasn't just gentlemanly behaviour, you realized, he was enjoying making you squirm underneath him, the smug bastard.

And then, just when you couldn't take it anymore, he sank in, steady, and for a brief moment, you thought you had made a mistake. He was too big, you were too full. A sharp intake of breath alerted him, and his eyes snapped up to yours, to make sure that he wasn't hurting.

And suddenly, like the wind signalling a storm, pleasure overwhelmed your momentary feelings of discomfort. You <strike>yanked</strike> pulled him down, kissing him voraciously, your hands gripping the back of his neck. Vergil, out of instinct, tried to pull away for a brief second, before surrendering to you. All he could do was grasp your shoulders as leverage, as his thrusts sped up.  
You could feel it, like looking out to the horizon of the ocean as the tidal wave rose up in the distance. Vergil broke the kiss, his lips began frantically fluttering up your neckline, reaching you ear. Tentatively, he took your earlobe into his lips, and bit, just hard enough for you to feel the outlines of his teeth.

You weren't sure if this was the trigger, or just the constant deluge of passion, but the tidal wave washed over you, surrounding you in a bubble of pleasure. You felt yourself going stiff, overwhelmed by all the sensations, and clenched your eyes, memorizing everything in you mind. The smell of sweat, the taste of his lips, the feeling of his perspiration laden chest against your own. No matter what happened, this would be a moment you would cherish for the rest of your life.

“Ver...gil” you uttered, still coming down from your high “I...love you..”

This may have the pebble that caused or the landslide, or perhaps, like you, he was overwhelmed, and you felts his thrusts get harder, more frantic as he adjusted his position. Even the stoic, ever-in-control man began grunting. Without warning, you felt him pull away from you, and before you could protest, you felt warmth splatter on your chest and belly.

When you finally felt composed enough to open your eyes, you saw Vergil sitting on the side of your bed, plucking a few tissues from the box on your nightstand, before lightly wiping up his...mess.

“My apologies,” he said wiping the last remnants off of you before tossing it into the wastebasket, “had this been the expected outcome of this visit, I would have been more prepared”

You snickered, “was this more than you envisioned?”

He paused, “More than what I could ever have hoped for” Vergil bent over you, granting you yet another one of his intoxicating kisses, and you pulled him down to lay beside yourself.

“Stay with me?”

“If you desire it, of course”

Sitting up a bit, you pulled the comforter of the bed, strewn below your feet, and pulled it over the both of you.

“I love you, my Morning Star,” you said, poetically as you could.

“And I, you. Although...” his eyebrows pinched together, “you know what that name refers to, or is that intentional?”

You laughed lightly, “Of course, I've read the Bible, it was practically expected of us on Fortuna” you plopped yourself on one elbow, stroking his chin. “But you are far more attractive and powerful than any demon could possibly hope to be” His eyes widened, and he pulled your head to his chest, holding you tightly. His heartbeat was a steady beat, lulling you into drowsiness.

“Rest,” you heard his voice, soft and soothing, “I will be here when you awake.” Your eyes closed, and the last thing you remember before drifting off was the warmth of the amulet beneath your hand.

*******

Dante was on a roll. Twelve times he had tossed the darts, and twelve times he'd scored perfect 180 points. Perhaps he had improved dramatically in the past week....

Or...perhaps, looking at his dark wine red shirt he wore, maybe this shirt was lucky. He would have bragged to his brother about his winning streak, but Vergil hadn't been there since shortly after Nero had gone to bed. And as it was nearly quarter to two in the morning, odds were he wasn't coming home soon.

Smirking, he threw the darts one last time, and of course, all three landed on the triple twenty band. Dante chuckled to himself, and prepared to turn off the lights to go to bed, but just before he hit the switch, he caught his reflection in the window. Perhaps Vergil was right, maybe wearing a shirt did look good on him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Woof* that was.. a bit intense to write. I don't know how other writers make it look so easy.

**Author's Note:**

> As I have never had the 'pleasure' of breaking a bone, I kinda had to wing it on descriptions of that injury. I really didn't want to make Nero suffer, but well... at least I gave him the full power of his grandfather's gift. I can't bring myself to do what other writers can and make him less powerful because of his quarter demon blood.  
Eva is a witch in this timeline, and a powerful one at that, and the 'Pact' Vergil referenced...well weddings are technically considered 'contracts' aren't they?
> 
> Head canon time! Dante is and will always be a fan of all strawberry flavoured candy, doesn't matter if it tastes nothing like the real thing.  
Vergil loves his chocolate, especially dark. Mint dark chocolate will have him wrapped around your finger.  
Sparda loves caramels, even the cheap ones in the clear plastic wrapping. Unfortunately, he sometimes left them in his pockets and let me tell you, no matter how powerful Eva was in the art of witchcraft, nothing gets melted caramel out of purple velvet.  
Nero also inherited his paternal side's candy addiction. His are sour candies... Dante has yet to have found a candy too sour for his nephew, despite multiple trips to the candy store with him. (don't tell his father.)


End file.
